


This is Hope

by Kimium



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fill [12]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe: Hinata didn't become Kamukura but canon events still happen, Bad Things Happen Bingo Fill: Hope is Scary, Canon Typical Violence, Canon amputation, Hinata hinted to be working for Future Foundation, It's a very small hint, M/M, Mention of blood, Mention of self amputation, Mild spoilers for DR1, One spoiler for DR3, Oneshot, Post DR1, Pre Ultra Despair Girls, Restraints, Very minor spoiler for SDR2, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimium/pseuds/Kimium
Summary: One Shot. Pre Ultra Despair Girls. Post DR1 AU: Hinata didn't become Kamukura but canon events still happened"Inside the room was what he expected: the giant conveyer belt, the chalkboards with their cheesy “school appropriate” messages written on them, the desks, and of course, the massive compressing machine, the block lowered, mechanics dead, and a splatter of red and other body parts (the arm!) all over it. Also, inside the room was what he didn’t expect, that being a boy standing there.Nagito froze and held his breath, staring. The boy had a white shirt on with a tie (Nagito was too far and the room too dark to fully make out the colour). His hair was short, somewhat spiky, and too light to be entirely black (a brown, perhaps?)."Nagito has an audience of one when he cuts off his arm and replaces it with Enoshima's.





	This is Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!!
> 
> So I always knew I'd fill my Bad Things Happen Square "Hope is Scary" with a Danganronpa fic. Surprisingly I had a lot of issues deciding how to do it. I flip flopped between very canon events to AUs, but in the end I mixed the two ideas. This is mainly canon with the exception that I'm running in the AU that Hajime didn't become Kamukura. Don't worry too much about how that would affect the series in general. I'm not really thinking this AU entirely through. It's just an idea that A) Hasn't left my mind and B) I wanted Hajime to witness Nagito hacking his arm off. The effect wouldn't be the same if Kamukura was there (he wouldn't care). I have more notes about this in the bottom, so you can also check that out for more clarification.
> 
> Anyways, this fic deals with the usual canon typical violence. I don't think it's too graphic but if anything bothers you, please take care of yourself and leave. Your health is most important to you!
> 
> If you want, feel free to leave kudos/comments. Those always make my day/ inspire me. And if you want to check out my tumblr the link is right [here](http://www.kimium.tumblr.com).

Nagito hummed, practically whistling, as he swung the small plastic bag in his hands. The bag bounced at his side rhythmically, as though Nagito was a student on his way back from a convenience store. Around him the broken pieces of society lay at his feet, crumbled and destroyed, smoldering despair clinging to every aspect of the world. Silence, thick and mottled with death covered the area, the only sounds coming from Nagito’s humming and the bag rustling as he walked. Silence was the only other alternative to screaming and pain. Yet another duality in the world people were unable to escape. Side stepping a rather large crack in the ground, Nagito continued walking. Soon. The word pumped through his veins, lighting a fire deep within, breathing a corrosive life into his already worn out body. Breathlessly Nagito laughed, inhaling with each broken, choked laugh. Despair seeped into his veins with each intake of air, each exhale and breath staining the world in a pitch black only accented by blood reds. Everything was despair; there was no escaping Junko Enoshima’s will. The world was cracking and crumbling at her feet and her desires, people were no different. If the world couldn’t stand up to Enoshima, then who could?

Laughing to himself, Nagito sharply turned the corner, avoiding more destruction (telephone polls toppled over, various slabs of concrete lying on the streets, broken cars, debris, dead bodies, rotting bodies…) and continued towards his final destination. Only a moment passed before Nagito spotted the looming building in front of him, darkened and smudged by the chaos of the world. Time slowed and everything around Nagito gently came to a halt, as though a frozen moment in time was required for Nagito to savour this moment.

The moment he returned to Hopes Peak Academy.

Smiling, almost reverend and respectfully, Nagito stopped and stood out front of the school. Memories swirled around in his already addled and congested brain each memory faded. There was a film over his mind, like a sepia tone spilled over film, the images stilted and ruined, unable to flow smoothly. Nagito had rarely visited the old building, his classes largely located on the main campus. He could vaguely pick out a couple memories where he had passed the old campus but that was the extent of his memories. However, what he remembered was irrelevant. No, what was most important was the shifting in symbols Hopes Peak had morphed into. No longer was the building simply a school for the talented. Hopes Peak Academy was the battle ground, or ground zero for the single most important event in history.

Junko Enoshima’s death and the birth of the Ultimate Hope.

Nagito shivered, licking his lips with the absentminded fever of an eager animal. Exhaling sharply, Nagito took a single small step forward, as though he was walking onto sacred grounds. Each step became bolder and eventually Nagito was striding along the front of the school, easily side-stepping leftover traps from when the area was fortified against Despair. Or maybe it was fortified against Hope. Who knew?

When Nagito reached the door, he gently pried it open, barely a crack, like a child attempting to sneak out of their room at night, and peered inside. The halls of Hopes Peak were darkened, all power cut off, just like Enoshima had told the survivors in their final trial. No doubt looters and the like had already gone through the school, taking whatever supplies the survivors of the Killing Game couldn’t take with them but Nagito wasn’t interested. They wouldn’t have taken the most important thing out of the school. Nagito would stake his luck on it.

Pulling the first item out of his plastic bag, Nagito turned the light on and shone it into the dilapidated hallway. Stepping inside, Nagito continued his journey through the school, winding his way through the halls and down towards the Trial room. With the interior of the basement exposed, Nagito could see all the mechanics of the school, the meticulously planned execution devices cleverly hidden within the basement. Enoshima liked her theatrics after all. Eyeing the devices with a silent gaze, Nagito pressed onward towards the final room. To where Enoshima’s body was. As he walked closer, Nagito’s heart pounded harsher and harsher in his chest, burning through his skin, muscles, sinew, and clothing. Holding his breath, Nagito reached out and carefully pushed the door open.

Inside the room was what he expected: the giant conveyer belt, the chalkboards with their cheesy “school appropriate” messages written on them, the desks, and of course, the massive compressing machine, the block lowered, mechanics dead, and a splatter of red and other body parts (the arm!) all over it. Also, inside the room was what he didn’t expect, that being a boy standing there.

Nagito froze and held his breath, staring. The boy had a white shirt on with a tie (Nagito was too far and the room too dark to fully make out the colour). His hair was short, somewhat spiky, and too light to be entirely black (a brown, perhaps?). He had his hands on his hips and a device in front of him, the blue light shining as he typed into the screen. Nagito bit his lip and carefully walked around the room, towards a dark corner. Whoever this boy was, he wasn’t trying to do anything to Enoshima’s body, but his presence was a slight wrench in Nagito’s plans. Did he wait for the boy to leave? Or did Nagito try to take him out? What if he wasn’t alone? Nagito quickly glanced around the room. Nothing. No hint of anyone else besides them. However, before Nagito could take a better look the boy began to walk towards the exit.

Biting his lip, Nagito carefully edged around the room, making sure the shadows kept him hidden. With the direction the boy was going he’d leave and then Nagito would be alone in the building. Lucky but that was what Nagito was; there was no sense in celebrating what was mundane. Pressing his back to the wall, Nagito waited. The boy was almost to the door, almost out when something shifted in the room with a crumbling noise. Nagito exhaled sharply. An earthquake? Or maybe the weight of the room somehow collapsing due to the structure being weakened? He wasn’t sure but whatever was causing it, a rather large slab of concrete from the ceiling had a few chunks fall before the entire thing shifted and headed towards the boy.

If Nagito were any one of his other classmates he might have let the slab hit the boy, crush him under it. Nagito wasn’t one of them and so he leapt and pushed the boy to the ground, rolling along with him, out of the way. The room spun and his ears protested as the slab hit the ground with a loud thunk. Dust kicked up in the air and spread, making Nagito cough. Sitting up with wobbly arms, Nagito glanced at the boy on the floor by his side. A small bit of blood trickled down his head due to a scrape but Nagito was certain besides that the boy was fine. Standing up and brushing dust off his clothing, Nagito sighed, staring down at the boy. Logic stated Nagito leave the boy, grab what he came for, and move on. The boy groaned on the floor, moving a bit, coughing. Nagito sighed again and walked over to the mess by the massive crushing machine. Right by the side of the contraption, among the dust, dirt, and bloody mess that had been Junko Enoshima, Nagito spotted the arm. Gingerly picking it up, Nagito brushed off some of the dirt. The cut from the rest of her arm was jagged, messy, but Nagito had learned a few things listening to Tsumiki. He could do this.

Smiling, Nagito pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and wrapped the arm. Nagito then walked over to the boy and with a smooth motion, one that betrayed how strong Nagito actually was, pulled the boy over his back in an unconscious piggyback ride. An audience to his rebirth as a person held a certain… appeal. Enoshima had been theatrical so perhaps Nagito should embrace that. Even if the person was an… extra. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Heading up the stairs, back to the main floor, Nagito kept the boy over his back until they reached the nurse’s office. Naturally that was one of the first places looted, not a lot saved, but it would do. Nagito set the boy on the floor (everything from the beds had been taken) and got to work with the arm. Poking around the office, Nagito found some medical supplies tucked away in the back. He even found some emergency supplies. How lucky. Tying the boy up, Nagito didn’t want the boy to attack when he woke, Nagito continued his work. Cleaning the arm and prepping it, Nagito was taking off his jacket when the boy stirred, groans coming from the floor. Nagito sat down on a chair, pressing his arm on a table. The tourniquet he had tied should help with the blood and Nagito not passing out due to the blood loss. Poking his left arm cautiously, Nagito smiled before he reached for the next item.

“Ugh…” The boy was gaining consciousness. “What the…”

“Hello.” Nagito calmly said. “Do sit still. I’m about to do something rather complicated and I don’t need your wiggling.”

“What…” The groggy sound in the boy’s voice slowly faded. “Where are we?”

“Hopes Peak.” Nagito answered, leaning down to pick up the hack saw from his supplies.

“I know that.” The boy started before his voice took on a high quality, fear laced. “What the hell?” He scrambled up eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

Nagito waved the hacksaw and his arm. “What does it look like? I need to see what it will be like to think like her.”

“See what it will—” The boy cut himself off. “You can’t be serious!” He tried to lunge for Nagito but the restraints only caused him to fall to the ground. He fell hard with loud thump.

“I am.” Nagito replied. “Though I don’t imagine someone like you could understand my motivations.” Nagito dispassionately looked at the boy. “You didn’t go to this school, did you?”

The boy bit his lip. “Uh… technically. I suppose.” He shook his head and inched forward on his stomach like a caterpillar. “Look, whatever crazy thing you’re planning on doing, you should reconsider. Untie me. I won’t do anything to you.”

“Liar.” Nagito retorted. “You’ll try to stop me.” He then waved his arm. “Besides, I’ve tied a tourniquet. I’m not a professional but I do believe if I cut the blood supply from a limb, I’m killing the cells. My arm will be useless. Or maybe it is already.” Nagito serenely smiled. “Now, let me get back to work.”

“Wait!” The boy still scrambled, rather impressively, using momentum to roll himself half over and the side of a cabinet to prompt himself up. “I’m Hinata Hajime. You are?”

Nagito blinked, the wooden handle of the hacksaw now firmly in his grasp. A witty retort filled his mouth before he swallowed it. “Komaeda Nagito. Now, do be quiet, you’re distracting me, as I predicted.”

“Why did you bring me here if you knew I’d distract you?” Hinata immediately shot back. “That’s counter productive. You could have left me downstairs and already be far away from this place.”

Nagito hummed and turned his attention to his arm, the hacksaw firm in his grasp. A cool calm filled his mind. “I figured someone witnessing my rebirth would be the kind of dramatic situation Enoshima would have liked.”

“Enoshima?” Hinata’s voice hitched. “You want to emulate her ideals?”

Emulate her ideals? Nagito cast his gaze back on Hinata and snorted. “You must be kidding me. I hate her with all my heart and soul. She stands for everything I despise in this world but… if this world runs on duality then I have to accept in order to feel Hope and for Hope to thrive Despair will be in the background, like a shadow to the light.”

“Hope?” Hinata asked. “You’re cutting your arm off and…” His gaze fell to Enoshima’s arm on the table, “replacing it with hers just for hope? That’s not hope. That’s madness, that’s chasing a fever dream masquerading as hope.”

“What would you know?” Nagito questioned. “You’re just an untalented, stepping stone in this world.”

Hinata’s gaze darkened for a moment and Nagito paused, waiting for Hinata to do something. Perhaps he’d somehow break out of the bonds and rush Nagito. Or perhaps he’d give some grandiose speech in order to change Nagito’s mind.

“Talent isn’t the be all and end all.” Hinata softly said. “Someone taught me that. Taught me that we’re all more than our talents. We can create our own futures.”

“That,” Nagito slowly said, “sounds like the words of an untalented hack trying to make themselves feel better.”

It was Hinata’s turn to snort, but his eyes hardened. “I think I recognise your name. You were classmates with Nanami-san, right?”

Nanami… Nagito’s brain short circuited, flashing harshly to the screen, to Nanami’s suffering. To the blood, to the pain, to the disgusting angle her leg was at, to the blood and muscle poking through, to the impaled form of her body, gravity pulling her arms down the spikes, like they used to do to enemies in the past. Bloody, vicious, bold. Nagito’s heart twisted, ached, filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. The screen flashed in his eyes, the colours, the swirls, the music, the hypnotic state it gave… how suddenly had had seen the bloody corpses of his parents beside Nanami, how he saw the wreckage of the plane…

“Shut up!” Nagito heard himself scream. “Shut up, shut up! Don’t speak her name! She’s dead, what good are her words now? She’s dead, dead, dead.”

Nagito laughed breathlessly. The corpses weren’t fading in his mind… they were still there… somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a sharp, high giggle, a woman’s. Enoshima’s. Wheezing and choking back a strangled scream, Nagito turned back to his arm, the hacksaw now tightly held in a white knuckled grasp.

“I’m doing this to understand, to see what Enoshima thought… to sew a piece of Despair on me… then Hope… Hope will shine.”

“This isn’t hope.” Hinata protested on the floor once again. “Don’t do it.”

Nagito’s laugh morphed into a broken laugh. He turned and looked at Hinata, his head tilted a bit. “This is Hope. This is for Hope. Everything I do is for Hope.”

Throwing a wad of cotton into his mouth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue off, Nagito’s hand moved. The hacksaw descended. Pain exploded. Screaming also exploded behind the cotton wad. On the floor Hinata’s screams mixed with Nagito’s muffled ones in a symphony preluding the arrival of Hope.

It was beautiful.

~

When he finished, he looked at his useless left arm, at the hacked stitching job holding Enoshima’s arm to his own jaggedly cut arm. Blood filled the room, staining all the table and the air. Giggling, Nagito clumsily wrapped bandages around his arm, using so many that he looked like a child attempting to dress like a mummy with toilet paper. Tilting his head, he smiled. He was reborn. He had a part of Ultimate Despair within him. All for Hope. That’s what he was. He was an agent for Hope. He would spread Hope, like a dutiful Servant. He then turned to Hinata, who was silent, his screams dead, throat probably sore. Smiling, he walked over to Hinata and knelt, taking a small knife from his pocket, he cut the bindings to Hinata.

“There’s no need to leave you here, tied up now.” He serenely said before he stood up. “Now, I have things to do. Good bye, Hinata Hajime.”

He walked to the door. Hinata rustled behind him, gasping. “Wait, Komaeda…”

“It’s not Komaeda.” He replied, half turning. “It’s Servant now.”

With those parting words, Servant left Hopes Peak, Hope swirling in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Hinata not being Kamukura: It's an AU I've been thinking more and more lately. Of course, the implications on canon events could be questioned, but for this story don't think too much about it. I wrote Hinata as Hinata because I wanted a (horrified) audience for Nagito cutting his arm off. I've written this scene multiple times in passing in other fics, but it's a scene that plays in my brain all the time. This time I just really wanted to write an entire fic about it and Nagito having an audience while doing it. Also, Enoshima is smart; she could have still caused the world to end without using Kamukura/ the Kamukura Project. Her plans could have been tweaked but I think she could have still pulled off Ultimate Despair.
> 
> Hacksaw: My headcanon that Nagito used a hacksaw to cut his arm off.
> 
> Tourniquet: a medical practice that's returned for basic First Aid (Red Cross). You essentially are cutting off blood to a limb (usually for wounds). This however, will start to kill the cells so it's one of those "last resort" things. It's implied that it can result in an amputation. Nagito in this case is using it to block the blood flow to his arm so he can cleanly cut it off and minimize blood loss. I also didn't write Nagito doing the actual tourniquet because I'm actually kind of uncomfortable with amputation in general (even if it's medically sound/needed).
> 
> Hinata's words: I'm directly taking some of his ideals at the end of SDR2 (they can create their own future) as well as running with the idea that in this AU Nanami's words helped him decide to not take part in the Kamukura Project.
> 
> Hope is Scary: I had a lot of issues coming up with an angle for this fill but I think having the scary part of Hope being Nagito's conviction to mutilate himself is a good angle to take.


End file.
